An anti-ode entitled ‘Fire’ opens with a line from a letter of Anton Chekhov written to Dmitri Grigorovich, March 28, 1886, Moscow, and published in the Picador edition of selected letters in 1984. The whole poem is about Chekhov, reading him in Melbourne during the January bushfires. FIRE “I have composed my stories as reporters write their accounts of fires – mechanically, half-consciously, “with no concern either for the reader or myself,” fire being the given, the sudden cause of all decisions the story tells as people run one way snatching belongings or would stay put and fight heat they cannot beat. Leave now, it is too late to leave, abandon your plans is the language of fire coming over the hill towards us. Staying doesn’t make you a hero. Fire came from nowhere. We’ve lost everything. The whole place has just gone. Fire quietens the township’s dreams of a world trip. Fire has leapt the r...
The author’s gift for memorable openings is recalled in ‘The Museum of Innocence”, where the two lovers of the story are first introduced in the middle of the act of lovemaking, an extended erotic description that infuses the reader’s thoughts for the rest of the novel, in the expectation of when will this happen again. ‘My Name is Red’ employs an equally remarkable device to take hold of the reader’s attention and keep it there: the reader listens to a story told by a dead person. And not just any dead person, but a fresh corpse, the murdered man at the centre of the story, speaking now from where his body has been thrown at the bottom of a well. The whole novel is spoken in the voices of different characters, living and dead, as well as unexpected voices like a dog, or a tree in a picture-book. Such variety of voices keeps the reader alert to what might happen next, while enabling a decameron of perspectives about the late 16 th century world of Constantinopl...